


The Twelve Days Of Oswald

by JokerGothNerd



Series: The Hare (in Gotham) [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Birthdays, Bonfire Night, Christmas, Devils, F/M, Father's Day, Firemen, Fluff, Hallowe'en, Humor, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inside No.9, M/M, Mother's Day, Moving In Together, Muddled up memories, New Year's Eve, Oswald works for Clarks Shoes, Photos, Post-Wedding, Teasing, That's right we went through the holidays, That's the point of the title, Time to say goodbye the song, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Cards, ex boyfriends, roses are red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JokerGothNerd/pseuds/JokerGothNerd
Summary: Oswald and Edward met on New Year's Eve - the beginning of an era for them. They've been through good and bad times together, but now Oswald's getting things jumbled up. How long will it take him to figure it out?





	The Twelve Days Of Oswald

**Author's Note:**

> Holá, so this is in dedication to Inside No.9 - BUT YOU WILL UNDERSTAND IT! I own neither Inside No.9 or Gotham. Enjoy x

“Come on, put it in!”

“I can't. I can't! I can't do it.”

“Don't, you're dropping me!”

“I've got it, I've got it.”

Both of them were laughing as they got into Oswald’s apartment. It was New Year's Eve - actually, more like New Year's Day now - and they'd just been at a party. Christmas decorations were still up, as a man dressed as a fireman almost dropped Oswald, who was an devil, onto the sofa.

“Is that a proper fireman's lift?” Oswald smiled, the other man looking over him.

“I don’t know, I'm not a proper fireman,” shocker right there, “Uh, have you got something to drink?”

“Probably, have a look in the fridge. Oh, don't touch anything with Victor on it! What? He's my flatmate. He labels everything,” he explained, trying not to shout when the 'fireman’ went searching.

“Victor?”

“Shh, don't say his name, he might appear. He's been in bed since 9 o'clock. He's not celebrating, mainly because he doesn’t give a shit.”

“Oh, well,” the other came back with two cans of beer, passing one to Oswald. They were both pretty drunk already, but took a good gulp before continuing.

“Yeah, he won't be out till February, he sleeps for about a day at a time.”

There was a brief pause in conversation. This rarely happened for Oswald, bringing someone home with him, I mean. He hadn't been on a date for months, and hadn't been laid for longer. It was odd, but the other man broke the awkwardness.

“I thought you were going home with John Lennon, anyway.”

“He wasn't John Lennon, he was Harry Potter,” Oswald argued.

“Mm, Harry Potter, was he?”

“Yeah, well, I think so. It was just a pair of round glasses though, wasn't it?”

“Did he show you his wand?” the fireman giggled like a schoolboy, making an inappropriate joke that he wouldn't get told off for.

“No, because I told him I wanted to see the fireman's pole. I'm-”

“My name's Edward Nygma, by the way. If you're interested.” And that was the only thing they really needed to know about each other by this point. Especially as they had both been stupid enough to ignore that key information.

“I'm Oswald Cobblepot, Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

Another moment of silence left them smiling at each other, taking a gulp of beer. Then Ed started to squirm a little, blushing slightly (but that may have been the alcohol).

“Where's your toilet?”

“It's down the corridor,” Oswald pointed in the direction, taking Ed's can off him. Instead of just walking around the sofa, Ed tried to get over the back, falling on his face immediately.

“Right. I'm going to go and… unravel my hosepipe,” Ed attempted to laugh off his failure, getting up and stumbling in the vague direction where Oswald pointed.

“Oh, ho-ho. Don't have it on sprinkle!” the angel flirted back, messing with the fireman's helmet left beside him.

Then the phone began to ring.

At 3 o'clock in the morning.

* * *

“Hello?”

“ _ Hi, sexy _ .” It was Ed. Now it was February, Valentine's Day. That had gone quick. “ _ Did you get my valentine's card?  _ ”

“No, not yet, but the post hasn't been. Did you get mine?” Oswald inquired, putting his shoes on at the same time. He had work soon, and was already in uniform - he'd worked for Clarks (a shoe shop) for a few years now.

“ _ Yes, probably somewhere in this pile here.” _

“Ha-ha. What time are you picking me up?” Ah yes, they were having a meal tonight in celebration of their love for each other. Why you had to love each other on one day of the year more than the rest is beyond me.

“ _ Seven-ish? Do you want sex then meal or meal then sex?” _

“How about sex, meal, sex?” he pushed his luck a little asking that, not entirely sure it would be possible. He stopped in front of the mirror, hanging on the wall, smiling, and looking forward to what the night would hold. He'd always hated Valentine's Day - or 'Forever Alone Day' as coined a few years ago whilst emptying a bottle of vodka - but this year was going to be great.

“ _ That depends, is The Grudge going to be in?”  _ And that was why. Oswald sighed, staring at a small statue of a hare which sat underneath the mirror.

“Er, I'm not sure. I'll get back to you with that information.”

“ _ Is he there?” _

“Yep.”

“ _ Alright, I'll call you later.” _

“Bye-bye. Hey, Victor,” Oswald out the phone down, finally addressing his flatmate who was stood a few metres away, staring into a textbook.

“Good morning,” Victor replied without looking up from his book, but still taking a sip of his coffee.

“What have you got on today?”

“I have a seminar this morning and another seminar this afternoon,” he had a lot on his plate, considering Victor wasn't much younger than Oswald. At least one was trying to get a good job. And it wasn't Oswald.

“More maths?”

“Continuous quantity, yes.” Continuous quantity is a great thing to look up on Google if you're too tired and can't sleep. Because you can't get a straight (like many of us, haha) answer.

“Oh. Sounds complicated,” he acknowledged the thought.

“Not necessarily,” oh fuck no. Not again. How was it that Oswald managed to get stuck in Victor's explanations that he didn't give a shit about? “Well, it depends on your approach to measurable magnitudes.”

“Right.”

“Like you have been going out with Ed for 13 months...”

“Mm…” Oswald was at least pretending to listen to his flatmate as he retrieved the mail and went through it. Hopefully he’d find Ed's card.

“Which is one year and one month. Now, this is referred to as a portable vector..."

“Oh, my God, how weird…” Oswald uttered, holding up a card he'd just opened. He'd assumed it was the one from Ed, but it wasn't.

“Well, not really, it's number theory,” Victor continued, not understanding the turn in conversation.

“No, I've been sent a valentine's card from my ex-boyfriend.”

“Well, maybe he still likes you?” he reasoned. There was many different solutions for this, right? Yep. Not creepy at all.

“I haven't seen him since I was 12, I barely remember him,” Oswald passed the card over to Victor, letting him read it.

"Roses are red, violets are blue, pornhub is down, your dad's Facebook will do.”

"His sense of humour hasn't changed much. I wonder how he got my address?” That was the biggest question. And that's when Oswald started jumping to conclusions, i.e. he had a stalker.

“Right, I need to go to my seminar. I won't be back until 7:30 if you want to have sex with Ed.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Oswald spoke, thinking he'd never be able to look Victor in the eye again, as he left.

* * *

“Do you remember your teddy, Oswald? I'll bring it along next time,” Oswald’ mother (Gertrude) held up an old photo of him, from when he was three, “Oh, he had a lovely peachy bottom, Ed. Look at that.”

“His lovely peachy bottom,” Ed teased.

Gertrude had come round for some reason - Oswald couldn't remember - and was going through all the photos she could find of her son, with the specific purpose of making fun of him.

“Mum, stop now. You're embarrassing Ed,” Oswald reasoned, though it was obvious it wasn't what she was doing.

“No, love, I'm embarrassing you! Right, well, shall I be Mother?” Gertrude spoke, putting down that picture, promptly reaching for her tea.

“Yes, why not. It is Mother's Day.” That was it! It was Mother's Day, that's why Gertrude was at Oswald’ apartment. And later she was going to his older brother, Victor's.

“Who's that?”

Ed had picked up a picture of a 12, maybe 13, year old boy who was posing for a school photo. But it wasn't Oswald. Or his brother, Victor. Perhaps it was another relation?

“Yes, that, that was Oswald's first boyfriend. Such a shame he-he died when he was just 16,” she could barely look at either one of them. It was clearly a heartbreaking memory.

“Did he?” Oswald was quick to ask. Because this was the ex boyfriend that sent him a Valentine's day card a month or two ago (you decide if you want it to be March or May, UK/USA). So it was impossible for him to get a card if he was dead. Right? Maybe it was some elaborate prank...

“Yes! He got… uu-ee-ee-a,” Gertrude tried to carefully say leukaemia, but it looked stranger than ever instead, “He's got a memory like a sieve, but he's done well with you, Edward. You're smashing, though you could do with getting a haircut.”

“Mum!” Oswald couldn't believe this.

“So when are you going to marry him?”

“Oh, my God.” It was getting worse. She did this with previous boyfriends too, I would like to point out. It made Oswald cringe every time.

“Well, you've been courting for two years. I was married with a son by then,” Gertrude explained her side of the 'argument’. Maybe disagreement was a better word?

“Yeah, so we're not all like you. I have my career to think about,” he nearly yelled through gritted teeth.

She had to do this in front of Ed, didn't she?

“Career? Measuring feet in Clarks is hardly a career, Oswald,” Gertrude actually had the nerve to laugh over it. At least he was earning a living.

“Thank you very much, Mum.”

“All I'm saying is your father would like to walk you down the aisle... while he still can…” she muttered.

Elijah, Oswald’ father, had dementia. And it was slowly killing his memories. They didn't like talking about it.

“Would anybody like a biscuit?” Ed had noticed an awkward atmosphere, and was dying to get out of there immediately.

“Yes, please.”

“No, thanks.”

That boy practically ran out of that kitchen. Truth be told, Oswald would love to have proposed, but it was too early on. Two years wasn't much anymore. And he wondered if Ed feared commitment a bit. It took long enough for him to say 'I love you’ back. And all Gertrude was doing was showing her son up.

“Mum, just stop it, alright!” Oswald warned her once Ed was out of earshot.

“Look, there's nothing wrong with getting married,” ‘yes there fucking is’ is what Oswald wanted to say, but refrained in order to shield his dignity. Or what was left of it after the photos earlier.

“Sh, sh!”

“Your generation seems to think it's old-fashioned. It's not. It's a commitment!”

“We don't even live together yet,” Oswald was struggling to keep his temper under control. Hulk would come out any second.

“Exactly! That would be a start.”

Unfortunately, she had a point. But Oswald wasn't going to back down that easily. Especially as Ed might be back any moment.

“Look, it's not going to happen, so stop going on about it, okay? I don't even know if Ed's-”

“Really Oswald?”

* * *

“Where shall I put my CDs?”

Ed was moving into Oswald's apartment now, even though it felt as though they'd only just started talking about it. They were both surrounded by dozens of cardboard boxes, which were full to the brim with his boyfriend's belongings. Oswald had no fucking clue as to where it was going to go.

“Er, here?” Oswald pointed to a slightly emptier spot next to a wall, “So much stuff.”

“Yeah, there's plenty more. You're not regretting it, are you?” Ed's voice went from playful to fearful in 0.23581 seconds flat.

“No!”

“Sure?”

“Victor's moved out now, so someone's got to pay the rent,” Oswald snickered, giving his boyfriend a gentle punch in the arm to get the message of 'I’m joking’ across.

“Har, har, har.” Oh yeah, he got the message.

They couldn't unpack forever though, so it was decided that Ed would go and pick-up Chinese takeaway, whilst Oswald cleared a bit of space for them to sit and eat it. Preferably in front of the telly.

“Don't be long. I've got a surprise for you when you get back,” he shouted down the hall, sulking a little as the door closed.

Oswald was happy that Ed was moving in, it was a step closer to them being a proper couple. Hopefully, if everything went to plan, Oswald was going to propose to Ed tonight - he'd hidden the ring in his socks draw.

This wasn't the surprise, however.

The surprise was the fact that Oswald had recently bought some lingerie. Anyway, now all he had to do was attempt to make it a bit romantic, i.e. music (although, he could have made more of an effort).

The stereo was free of clutter, so Oswald grabbed whatever was on top, pushing it into play. The first thing to come on was Time To Say Goodbye. Good song. Certainly nothing that was his.

“Shit!” an egg crashed against the wall.

Followed by a few more.

“Ed? Ed, what are you doing? This isn't funny.”

He walked in the direction of where they were being flung from. Just to add to the tension, the lights flickered a tad. Until he got to the shoe closet. There was a noise from within. He couldn't make it out. And so, Oswald opened it. There was a man. Who he'd never seen before. In a coat. Who looked like he'd just been in a heavy downpour of rain.

“I'm sorry!” the purple coated man ran towards Oswald, who could do very little in his state of shock.

“What? What? No!”

* * *

“Oh! Just a bad dream. Thank fuck.”

Oswald was lying on his side, Ed next to him, as the alarm went off. Gently, he moved to turn it off, noticing the photo from their wedding day (a year ago now) kept beside it. It felt like only yesterday, when Ed moved in. That was 3 and a half years back, after they'd been dating for 2 years.

“Come on, darling. You're going to be late for work,” Oswald gave his husband a nudge.

“It's a bank holiday, isn't it?” Ed mumbled, not caring to move from the comfortable position he resided in - face smashed into the pillow.

“Oh, yeah. But I'll have a cup of tea now you're up.”

“Okay."

“What shall we do today?” Oswald was more speaking to his stomach, as it held an eight month old child within.

“Insert groove dowel pins into B1 and B2,” Oswald read from the instruction manual.

They'd decided it was time to build the cot for their baby now. Or at least Ed was building it. He'd said that Oswald shouldn't be getting stressed over anything. After the previous day of trying to assemble it, Ed was determined to get it right.

“I thought- don't know what they are,” and he was slowly losing motivation.

“They look like that,” Oswald turned the booklet towards him, pointing at something before describing it, “They look like little maggots.”

Now, believe it or not, Edward Nygma was not one of those men who was any good at D.I.Y. - which Oswald always found funny. Neither of them were particularly masculine, meaning that this was going to take days.

Five more minutes later, it was  a dealt with, “Right, erm okay. And then what?”

“Align sliding panel AB alongside bar EF.”

“We've already done that.”

“Insert rod into top pole until base connects?” Oswald hoped he was at the right part now.

“Isn't that what got us into this mess in the first place?” Ed tried and failed to get a laugh out of his husband, instead just making Oswald cry. A hug was sure to sort this out, “Oh, hey, hey, don't cry. What are you worried about?”

His hormones were acting up again, making Oswald just lose it. Again.

“I don't know, I just- I don't want the baby to spoil everything,” he sniffled, wiping his nose with a sleeve.

“Well, it's not going to do that. How would it do that?” Famous last words.

* * *

He wasn't shutting up. Their eight month old son, Martin, was wailing at 2am. Both Ed and Oswald were trying to leave him alone, but no one could withstand a screaming child for so long. Ed cracked fairly quickly, running off to quieten him down. The second he was out that door, Oswald pulled out a Father's day card, writing it from Martin to Ed. It'd be his first one too.

“ _ Hey, hey, hey, hey. Shh, shh, shh, what's this noise? Shh, shh, what's all this noise? Do-do-do, do-do-do-do-do,  _ ” Ed started to sing to their son, as Oswald could hear via the baby monitor less than a metre away. Slowly, Martin was becoming quieter.

“ _ Come on, little darling, let's get you out of there.”  _ Hold it.

That wasn't Ed's voice.

And no one else lived in the flat.

Oswald stopped.

Then he ran faster than he ever thought he would.

“Martin! Martin. Martin?” He wasn't there. His baby wasn't there. He was gone. And Ed wasn't there either. “Ed! Ed! Someone's taken Martin!”

“What are you doing?” Ed rushed in, rocking Martin in his arms, who was more curious now, as to why his daddy was panicking (don’t you dare).

“Wha-? I heard somebody talking.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was me. I know I'm trying to get him to sleep,” Ed whispered, urging Oswald to do the same.

“It wasn't you,” never had anyone sounded so sure of something that clearly couldn’t have been there. It was impossible. Maybe he was going mad.

“Shh, calm down, calm down. You'll set him off again. Hey, come on. Hey, oh, there we go. Alright? You're just overtired. Come with me.”

Ed took Oswald’ hand, pulling him back to bed, with their child on his other arm. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

“Open your eyes!”

“Surprise!”

“One big puff.”

“Happy birthday!”

It was his 29th birthday, and Oswald had just blown out the candles on his birthday cake. All of his family and friends (except two) were there, most holding champagne flutes.

“Ah, thank you!” Oswald blushed a little, then everyone got in with their conversations. But his father was in the corner, so he had to go a talk, “Oh my God. Hi, Dad!”

Gertrude appeared at his side quickly, as Elijah stayed still and silent. Like he always was. It was such a shame.

“Oh, he's been so excited all week, haven't you, Elijah? Well, he- he did know he was coming, but I think it's gone again. I shouldn't have brought him, really,” she got quieter, as the self-loathing went on.

“No, I'm glad he's here,” he tried to make it up to her, but it didn't work.

“He wouldn't want you to remember him like this.”

Next was Ivy, Oswald’ best friend who’d worked at Clarks with him since the start. He could never wish for a better friend.

“Happy birthday, dear. Bet you can't guess what these are,” she handed his a large, paper covered box, and Oswald knew exactly what they were.

“But they didn't have them in my size!”

“Well, someone rang Ipswich and got them DHL'd.”

“Oh, my God, you shouldn't have! Ah, thank you so much!” He’d been trying to get hold of a pair of these for a year now. Over the box, he gave her a hug, not squishing the box.

“Two words - staff discount,” Ivy laughed. Maybe she should walk away from the booze at this rate.

“Where's Ed?” Oswald finally asked. He hadn't seen him, and it was his birthday after all. You'd think his husband would bother to show.

“I don't know, actually.”

“Mum, where's Ed?” he was getting annoyed now.

“I'm not sure, he said he'd be here.” Great. He was going to fucking kill that husband of his. Then again, what if he'd found something better to do?

“Hi, darling, happy birthday!” Speak of the devil, Ed waltzed through the door as though he wasn't late. And he'd brought a friend.

“Hi, Isabella,” Oswald had a go at being nice. He hated the bitch, really. It’s was ridiculously obvious that she wanted Eddie. Blond bitch.

“Happy birthday, Oswald. You look fab,” look at her, all sweet, and pretty and totally Ed's type. If Oswald lost his husband, he could guarantee it would be to that harpy. Guarantee.

“I don't, but thanks anyway.”

“No, I'm sure you've lost a bit. Yeah, turn round,” the party had fallen silent at this point, watching Oswald have the mick taken out of him, twirling around for Isabella’s amusement, “Yeah, you definitely have.”

“It's only baby fat, it'll be gone soon enough,” Gertrude interrupted, defending her son.

“Well, he's hardly a baby, he's two now. Where is he?” Ed then managed to ruin the defence of Gertrude, but moving it forward instead.

“He's just having a nap, how was your work do?”

“We, well, we popped our heads in, didn't we? Yeah. Just to schmooze a few clients. Hi, Ivy,” he took notice of Ivy, literally as she downed the contents of her glass, looking around for more if she was going to survive this party.

“Hi, Edward.”

“This is Isabella. She's just started under me."

“Mm, has she?” Ivy didn't like Isabella either then, as the look and the tone of disapproval ran through her. And the innuendo.

“I'll just get some drinks,” yet again, Ed snaked his way out of another conversation he wasn't getting in the middle of.

“Right then, come on, Oswald. It's THAT time,” Gertrude rushed round with her scarf to tie around his head as a mask type thing.

“No, Mum, please,” Oswald begged, yet he knew nothing would stop this.

“No, no, it's tradition,” then she went on to explain the game, “Every birthday since he was six, we've played blind man's buff. Though last year it was more blind drunk buff. Now, the first person you catch can give you your main present. Now, you come and spin him, Ivy.”

“Oh, my pleasure. One, two, three and off you go!” Ivy stopped spinning him after three, running away with everyone else to different spots of the apartment.

Oswald reached out as far as possible, only able to feel his way around. Which only became a problem when he'd forgotten his dad was still stood in a corner. And then Oswald grabbed him, earning a shriek. “Dad, sorry, sorry, sorry! Sorry, sorry.”

After apologising, he turned and found his way through the corridor to where Oswald thought he could hear something. The closer he got, the more tempting it was to take off the blindfold. Then Oswald did. He was stood at his and Ed's bedroom door. And all he could hear was the creaking of the bed springs. You'd open the door to, wouldn't you?

* * *

“I can't get the case to close. You're going to have to take something out.”

Ed was almost sat on top of a suitcase in their bed, trying desperately to close it, resulting in a squeaking noise from the bed. They were going on holiday, and it was a nightmare to pack for.

“Look, you don't need these shoes, do you?” he held out a pair that were too familiar.

“No, they're my birthday shoes Ivy got me last year. I've barely worn those,” Oswald reasoned, using puppy eyes to get his own way.

“Well, we can't take all of these toys then,” the toys that were taking up most of the space in the suitcase.

“No, no, he won't sleep without them.”

“Well, just make him choose one. You're too soft on him,” Ed actually looked upset when he said this. It was as though his husband cared far more for their son than him.

“It's her holiday too!”

“It wasn't meant to be. It was supposed to be just me and you. A chance to get away from this miserable flat for a while.”

“Yes, well, I'm very sorry that my dad died. I couldn't get my mum to take her now, could I?” he shouted, not loud enough for Martin to hear though. Elijah had passed away recently. It was all very sudden, and Gertrude had said she could still look after Martin, but Oswald didn't want to be a burden.

“I'm not saying that,” Ed paused, looking up at the war they’d created.

“Then what are you saying?!” and there was no fury like a pissed off Cobblepot.

“I just wanted it to be fun… like it used to be,” Edward made a huge mistake by saying this. He knew how Oswald would take it: like he didn’t want Martin.

“Well, that's just life, Edward. We're doing what other people do. We're going on holiday as a family,” Oswald voice was beginning to quieten, his eyes welling up. He knew what was happening. Of course he did. He was stupid.

“Yeah? Well, I can't fucking wait. Get the passports,” Ed snapped, dragging the suitcase he’d managed to shut. He’d nearly had it too. What hurt most was that Oswald had no retort. No comeback. That’s when you know you’ve broken someone in a fight, it when they’ve nothing left to fight for...

* * *

“What day is it today, Martin?” Oswald asked, holding up a video camera, unsure whether his voice or hands were shakier.

“The first of September,” Gertrude joined in. Martin was mute, with only a pad of paper and a pen to communicate with. He couldn’t look into the camera, as he wasn’t particularly pleased about this whole fiasco.

“And what's happening today?”

“You've got school.” He turned the camera off once he'd got this little bit. Oswald knew he'd grown up so fast, so he wanted to remember this moment for as long as possibly. It felt like only last week, he'd been rocking him in his cot.

“Right. Come on then. Grandma's going to walk you down,” Gertrude was stood next to her grandson, as she'd offered to take him to school since Oswald had work.

Martin pointed to his father And quite rightly too.

“Erm, I can't, darling, Daddy's got to work. But I'll be there when you finish, okay?” he took his hand, promising to be there, and hoping he didn't cry, “You are going to have a brilliant day. I am so, so proud of you.”

His mother had spotted that Oswald was going to lose it at any moment, so got Martin out so he didn't his dad breakdown in tears.

“Now, come on, don't let us be late for our first day. You're going to show me the way. Now, you, come on, then let's go and find this lovely new school. This is going to be fun.”

They closed the door behind them, and the whole apartment was so quiet. It hadn't been like this since… since… well, forever ago. It had been so long, that Oswald was so lost. He just sat down and released the tears that had been threatening to spill. Martin was always making noise, so it hurt to be this quiet. He had no one else anymore. It was just the two of them.

“Come on, Oswald, don't upset yourself.”

It was his dad, Elijah, talking to him - or rather, a hallucination. He couldn't come back from the dead. Not in this universe.

“I just didn't- I didn't think it would turn out like this.”

“Well, I never thought I'd end up walking into the garden centre and pissing on the hydrangeas, but there you go,” Elijah tried to make light of the situation, but it didn't help. Not one bit.

“But you weren't well, it wasn't your fault.”

“And this isn't yours, darling boy.”

“Isn't it? Ed's left me, Martin's left me,” Oswald obviously didn't realise that them leaving was his fault, as he had no evidence of reasoning that it was.

Edward filed for the divorce. It had been long enough that it still hurt - probably would for a long time. They didn’t stop arguing, they kept at it, until Oswald gave up fighting, and Edward had had enough of the man he married all those years ago. Oswald bet that his ex was off flirting with that  _ Isabella _ , or her twin, Kristen. He could never be those girls. He could never be good enough for Ed.

“Only till 3 o'clock,” he reminded Oswald, after all, it wasn't forever.

“I know but I'm- I'm 32, divorced, getting everything muddled up and working in a shoe shop with my weird best friend. It's hardly the Cinderella story, is it?” Oswald sobbed into a cushion once he'd had a small rant. In a way, he needed this. Every once in awhile, everyone needs a good cry, because then nothing is bottled up forever, and it doesn't all come out in one. If you understand me, that is.

“Hey, come on, enough of that nonsense. It's Martin's first day at school. This is meant to be a happy memory.”

“I'm sorry, Dad, it just doesn't feel like that.”

* * *

The doorbell rang.

“Ivy, can you get that?” Oswald yelled through the apartment.

It was Hallowe'en, so him and Ivy were going out for the night, whilst Edward took Martin trick-or-treating. Which was incredible, because Oswald didn’t expect to hear from Edward after their divorce. He assumed that Ed would want nothing to do with their child.

“I can't, I'm putting my contacts in!” Ivy screeched back.

“Hello?” Oswald reached the buzzer-box thing that he could let people into the building from (don't know what it's called, if you couldn't tell).

“ _ It's Ed, can you buzz me in?  _ ”

“And you're late,” he spoke through grit teeth.

“ _ Thanks _ .”

“Come on, Ivy. Come on, Edward's arrived.”

“What'd you think?”

Ivy was wearing what looked to be a suit, with a bowtie, and without a blazer. She'd painted her face white, then done an Eddie Munster (look it up) style hair, but in a ponytail. She also had red contacts in, and lots of eyeliner. Oswald knew full well what she was supposed to be, however it didn't stop the teasing.

“Are those the contacts or just your eyes?” he joked.

“Contacts, and you know it,” Ivy growled back, not having time for his little games.

“It's good. What are you, a zombie waiter?”

“Oh, piss off, Oswald, I'm meant to be a vampire!” but one look in the mirror changed all that, “Right, well, I'm turning it into a werewolf. I've got teeth here somewhere” she reached into her makeup kit, finding the eye pencil to draw whiskers on. All she had to do was find the teeth after this.

As they giggled over costumes, he heard the door open and close, Ed presumably, but kept facing Ivy.

“Martin's in his bedroom. You’ve got some explaining to do,” Oswald warned, still pissed over how late his ex was. Ed ran past without a word, to Martin's room door closing behind him.

“Do I look hairy enough?” Ivy turned to look at Oswald for the first time since she'd altered her makeup.

“You look like Tony the Tiger,” he sniggered a little, taking the eye pencil from her hand (Tony the Tiger is the tiger that is on Frosties cereal boxes), “Come here. I'll turn it into a cobweb. Do you remember when I first moved in here ten years ago?”

“Uh-huh,” was all Ivy could fathom without moving too much.

“And I was living with that, what was his name... Victor?” Oswald remembered it like it was yesterday. Victor was such an odd one, but interesting to live with. Never again though.

“Oh, my God, The Grudge! That would have been a good one,” she had to stop and laugh at that, because Ivy and Victor never really got on very well. They barely managed the small talk.

A knock on the door signalled only one thing on this night: “Trick or treaters!”

“Go on, give 'em a scare,” Ivy smiled, knowing this was his favourite part of the holiday.

But when he opened the door, “You could have told me the lift was broken. I'm knackered!” It was Ed… but… he came in… and was with Martin… but he wasn't. So… who was? Holy fuck!

“Martin? Martin!” Oswald scampered like a gazelle being chased by a lion to his room.

There was someone holding Martin. That man. In the purple waterproof coat. Again. Wait. Who the fuck…?

“I've got him, I've got him!”

* * *

Oswald nearly took the door off the hinges when he ran in with Martin by his side.

“Here you go, darling. Here. Keep it there. Okay, it's going to sting a little bit, but just keep it under there,” he ran the cold tap and got her hand under.

It was bonfire night, about 9pm, and Oswald had taken Martin to see the fireworks, along with Gertrude. However, of all the people he could have contacted, he chose Edward.

“Hello?”

“Martin's had an accident. He's-he's alright, but he's burnt his hand on a sparkler.”

“Ah, okay, okay,” Ed babbled, “I’m coming around. I love you.” And he hung up. Just leaving that out there, so Oswald could be incredibly confused. What a dickhead.

“Oswald, there's not a mark on him. Look,” Gertrude caught his attention, showing him Martin’s hand.

“But no, he was crying!” Oswald was hyperventilating now. He could've sworn Martin had.

“Well, you probably frightened him. Martin, go and watch the fireworks. You can see them out of your window.”

Once he'd left the room in search of a decent view of the display. The poor boy had stopped crying by now, and was just puzzled as to what the hell his dad was doing. Back in the kitchen, they were discussing it.

“I saw him pick up a sparkler, he burnt his hand. I saw it.”

“But he can't have. There's nothing wrong with him. You did, when you were his age. Burnt right through your gloves,” Gertrude reasoned, watching as her son took off his glove to look at the huge scar along his palm.

“I don't know, what's wrong with me, mum? I'm getting everything jumbled up.”

* * *

“Well, put your hat on then.”

“What?”

Oswald was sat at the head of the table, Ed walking around behind him. “Well done on all this, it looks lovely, just like you,” he whispered to Oswald as he passed, kissing him on the cheek before sitting down at the opposite end of the table.

Wait… they were all there. Elijah, Gertrude, Victor and Ivy. But… why? Everything was muddled up, switched around, Oswald didn't understand it. They were all wearing Christmas hats, and a Christmas lunch was out on the table. It was Gertrude complaining about him not wearing a hat. So much so, that she'd reached around and put one on him as he was lost in thought. “That's better.”

“Right, why are Christmas trees so bad at sewing? They always drop their needles."

“Terrible,” Oswald's father acknowledged. But… didn't he pass away? A few years ago, yes he did. Because they had to take Martin on a holiday, as Gertrude couldn't look after her.

“Well, you never did have a sense of humour, did you, Elijah?” his mother’s Hungarian accent giggled a little.

“I don’t know, I married you, didn’t I?”

This was weird. Like, cheese dream weird. Why was Edward here?

“Ed, are we back together?” Oswald asked, perplexed beyond belief.

“Yes, don’t you remember bonfire night last year?” he smiled.

He gathered the courage to ask at this point,  “Dad, are you alright?” It's just that Oswald remembered Elijah being very ill, and passing away. How was he here?

“Yeah, yeah, I'm tickety-boo. I had to be here for this, didn't I? I wouldn't have missed it for the world,” it was the most Oswald had heard his father say in years. Maybe he'd gotten better?

“Where's Martin?” Oswald had realised he was the only person missing from the table. He was still confused, so it didn't help his mood.

“Er, he's just getting his outfit on for the Nativity. Our little angel,” Ed sat down at the opposite end of the table, facing Oswald.

“I think it's time for the present!”

“Oh! No, I don't want the present,” despite not sounding too sure.

What Oswald wanted was to know what was going on. Why was everything messed around so much? It felt like his life was skipping through, just looking at the highlights.

“This is from all of us. We all contributed. I hope you like it,” Gertrude produced a box out of nowhere, placing it in front of him.

Inside the box, was a large book. It was a photo album, of Oswald. It began with his baby pictures, he smiled at each one, “Oh, no. Is that me?”

“Yes!”

A few pages along was the day Martin was brought home for the first time. He was in his cot. “Oh, gosh! The cot! Do you remember that? We couldn't put it up, could we?” Oswald looked at Ed, grinning like a fool.

“Yeah, it took us three days,” earning a good laugh from all of them.

Next, he fell on the one of him and Ivy, Hallowe’en a few years back. “Ah, look at Tony Tiger!” Ivy piped up, thinking about the old days.

It was the most wonderful gift Oswald had ever received. It was almost indescribable. He couldn’t wish for more. They were his family. It was perfect. For a few moments, at least.

Until… “This is amazing. You've got everything. This is like my whole life is flashing... Oh…” unfortunately, it had clicked for Oswald, “...I think I know what this is now.”

Wheels screeched to a halt.

A crash was made.

There were ambulance sirens.

And Time To Say Goodbye was playing.

“Okay, Fire Brigade. Can you hear me?” a voice could be heard to say. It was a bit distant, but it made sense.

It all flooded back to him. It wasn't just what Oswald had said, but it was what his friends and family had also said to him.

_ “I don't know what's wrong with me, Ed. I'm getting everything jumbled up.” _

_ “He's got a memory like a sieve.” _

_ “He wouldn't want you to remember him like this.” _

_ “That's just life, Ed.” _

_ “This is supposed to be a happy memory.” _

His car had crashed.

Only him and Martin were in the car.

All the shopping was in the front. Including the eggs, which were now smashed into the windscreen - like earlier, when he thought they were being thrown.

Martin was okay. He was alive because he was in the back.

But Oswald wasn't.

He was covered in his own blood from hitting the windscreen and steering wheel.

This was his life flashing before his eyes.

Oswald was dying.

“Martin! Daddy's going now,” Ed shouted behind him. From one of the rooms, Martin came out, dressed as an angel. He walked over to hug Oswald, one last time; one last hug.

“Oh, no, I don't want to,” tears had started to fall from Oswald, as he left his family behind. But eventually, he would have to let go of his little boy. He could feel his heart breaking by the second. Everyone else was smiling, they looked so happy. 

The last thing Oswald saw from the accident, was another person. Who wore glasses and a purple waterproof coat. The same person Oswald kept seeing throughout his memories.

The man was talking to one of the firemen, who were trying to save Oswald. “It's my fault. I just stepped out into the road. I wasn't looking. I managed to get the kid out, but I couldn't get to him. I'm sorry.”

“Come on, Martin,” Ed spoke, their son going to stand next to him, “It's time, Oswald.”

Despite the fact he was still crying, Oswald smiled, understanding that he had to let go.

It was time.

“Goodbye, everyone. I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it, (p.s. I like nice comments *wink wink*) xx


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